Then
by CatGal15
Summary: Set in the alternate universe, Fiona escapes the tower, meets Puss, and forms the Resistance.
1. Chapter 1

In the highest room of the tallest tower, Fiona paced. Her emotions were running high and wild. A long time ago, in her cherubic youth, a horrid witch had cast a spell on her; and, with each sunset, Fiona transformed into a being of another breed. She didn't remember the name given to her alternate form, and she didn't have to. It didn't matter. She was all alone; and of greater significance, she was still more human than the witch.

But she would not be alone much longer. For the thousandth time, Fiona furthered her steps and hurried to stand at the window, peering out into the darkened depths of the tower. The courtyard was abandoned. It appeared that the almighty dragon, her winged captor, was absent. Hopefully it was far enough away for Fiona to attempt another escape; she could no longer wait. As a child, she had spent most of her nights lying awake, hoping her parents would come and get her, and apologize for not having had gotten there sooner. They never showed.

Now, at the age of thirty-five, Fiona had waited long enough. At this juncture in her life, she would rather never claim the kingdom, than continue to wait for a man to prove his worthiness by slaying the dragon. For twenty-eight years, she had bumped around the same small room, listening to the fearsome dragon vanquish the brave knights who tried to rescue her. On one frightful occasion she had watched the dragon set a knight on fire. The metal armor had begun to melt on his skin, and he had been forced to stop, drop and roll in a pointless endeavor to find relief. Fiona had watched as the dragon stomped on him. The armor had exploded off his body as he was popped like a balloon.

For twenty-eight years, she had listened to the dying screams of the bravest men. Not even the sharpest sword was enough to defeat the mighty dragon; Fiona could only rely on herself. Ripping the delicate gilded crown off her head, she crossed her chamber and flung open her door. The castle was dark as Fiona slowly and quietly descended the spiraling stairs, but the stones were illuminated when her body began to magically glow as a swirling fog began to swirl around her body. Standing on a stair, in the blackness of the shadowed stairwell, she squeezed her eyes shut as the blinding brightness burned against her eyelids. When the light faded, she opened her eyes and continued her descent, kicking sparkles down the stairs.

Coming to the window, she paused and bathed herself in the silver glow of the sunset, looking down at her enlarged green hands. Raising her ice-colored eyes she peered out into the courtyard. It still seemed abandoned; the night was still quiet.

The time was now to make her escape. Her breaths echoed softly down the passage as she continued making her way down the main chamber, her thin slippers making the lightest sound. All she was aware of was the feel of her dress, bunched up in one hand, and the feel of the stones beneath her other hand as she trailed her fingers over the rough wall.

Coming to the final stair, Fiona paused and listened intently for the faintest growl, the farthest footstep. All was silent, so Fiona stepped off the last stair and broke into a run, fleeing swiftly through the large stone room.

The eerie silence in the castle ended over the long stone bridge that connected two dilapidated towers. The lava popped and cracked loudly, and Fiona ran; trying to focus not only on faraway sounds muffled by the lava below, but also on where she was going. The bridge was narrow and had no fence, and she was in a dangerous hurry to cross. She felt a small satisfaction when she made it into the next tower, but she did not falter. She was not yet out of the woods...Of course, in this case, she wanted to get out of the tower and into the woods. At this juncture she only ran faster; surging forth without fear of toppling off the edge. It did not matter if the dragon saw her. The dragon did not want to hurt her. It only wanted to imprison her. Fiona was no longer accustomed to freedom; she would know what to expect and how to deal with being recaptured.

Fiona was less than ten feet away from the huge double doors before she slowed her brisk pace. The door creaked as she pushed it open, and she bit her lip and clenched a shaking fist as she dashed toward the long, narrow steps.

Almost there, she told herself. She wanted to jump over all the steps to the bottom, but she was not willing to risk injury and having the dragon find her laying there with busted ankles. So she descended carefully, gritting her teeth and knowing she was risking everything she had. She knew very well she might not make it out. None of the knights had.

The rickety wooden bridge was also quiet, and Fiona surged across its planks; not even caring if it collapsed and fell into the lava. She would rather die trying to escape than to spend another night in that tower.

She made it halfway, her heart hammering in her chest. Her feet were sore. Her vision was blurring with tears. And she was dizzy with exhaustion. She had not slept for fourty-eight hours; her mind had been battered with the indecision of trying another escape. And, somehow, Fiona scrambled up the bridge onto the ground on the other side and into the taste of freedom.

There she collapsed, trembling all over and blinking tears from her eyes. She sat for a moment, trying to regain her composure. Opening her eyes she sank her hands into the soft, cold earth. Dirt...She hadn't felt the dirt in twenty-eight years. She cupped it in her hands and let it trail through her fingers, and a bubble of giddy laughter escaped her lips before she began to hyperventilate. "Oh wow," she gasped, and brushed a palm over the sparkling, dewy grass.

Free...She was free! She had made it. Was she awake? She sincerely hoped so. A roar in the distance had her standing before she had ordered her feet to move, and she backed up into the shadows, trying to locate the origin of the roar. Stepping into the shadows, she hunched down and listened as the familiar noise of heavy, flapping wings grew louder, filling the air and moving the trees. Then the dragon soared past, directly overhead, swooping over the bridge and landing somewhere within the castle, disappearing from sight as the trees and the bridge stopped swaying. And the night was calm again, the air filled only with the chorus of croaking frogs.

Fiona abandoned her place in the shadows and ran deep into the forest. If her heart had not been hammering from the risk and excitement, she would have run forever. She felt liberated! She wanted to run, and play in the water.

She had made it! She wanted to scream with joy. But not a second of her freedom was worth being heard by the dragon. She chewed her bottom lip as she moved stealthily through the woods. The sunset had significantly faded, and dying pastels painted the sky in waning beauty. The moon was a faint crescent, and the cool night air felt so good on Fiona's face.

She had achieved all by herself the only dream she ever had. She had gained so much more than a kingdom, and she nearly floated down the path. Remaining ever mindful of what she was, Fiona stayed in the forest and slept in the shadows. Usually, she would dream that her tower did not exist, and was replaced by her parents' castle. The bridge was never there, and Fiona would sit on top of the magmatic rock, wondering how she would escape the castle and return home. That particular dream had haunted her for years.

Tonight, in her dreams, she took off her crown and descended the spiraling stone stairs leading to her chamber. But, when she stepped off the final stair, the dragon was waiting behind the wall, looking at her from inches away. And instead of getting anywhere near the bridge, Fiona dreamed that she turned around and walked right back up.

It was neither just a dream, nor just a fear. It had actually happened twice, on the many accounts she had tried to escape.

Fiona came awake and for a moment she froze, her eyes frantically searching her strange surroundings before she remembered that she had made it across the bridge. The sky was still dark, and the stars shone like sequins on velvet. The moon shone through the leafy branches above, decorating her in light and shadows. It was beautiful...

But Fiona really needed to alleviate herself. She stood and began the hunt for a good place to answer the call of nature. Squatting there, in the darkness, she found it safe to assume that no matter what form she was in, she would always be happier at being a princess than she would ever be at having to rough it.

When the deed was done Fiona washed her hands in the still waters of a creek, and followed the gurgling waters upstream to drink of the flowing freshness of untainted water. When she was hydrated she stood like a statue in the forest, looking around and trying to remember the survival lessons she had taken as a child. It was as she was using a rock to scrape off the wood and bark on a tree that her life was suddenly pieced together, and she realized that her parents must have known she would be locked away for years.

But...no, she had begun survival training before she had been cursed. Had they known that a witch would cast a spell on her? Fiona scraped harder as her thoughts whirled. Today, she would go to the kingdom. She would not stop until she was there. She would greet her parents, and she would ask questions.

By the time Fiona had fashioned a ring of stones, she had nine questions in mind. She dumped the assortment of wood, bark and moss into the pit and looked around for sticks; clueless that she stood no chance of ever seeing her parents again. 


	2. Chapter 2

The fire was small but steady, and Fiona had rolled up her dress and caught a fish, which cooked steadily on a pile of flat rocks over the flames. It smelled good and the fire allayed the biting chill of the wind. She had found a small stick in the shape of a Y, and she used it like a fork.

When her rock plate was empty she looked up at the sky. It was all one color everywhere and she tried to figure out where the sun would rise. She had spent most of her life looking at the sunset from her tower. The sun set in the east, and the bridge was to the left of her chamber. She turned toward her tower and tried to picture the layout. She certainly wasn't going to go there in person.

She imagined coming down the staircase after dark. The moon would be behind her, off to the right. She looked down at the rocks and the tree trunks for moss, and when she found some she stood beside the tree facing the same direction. If she remembered correctly, it was north; her tower was behind her. So the sunrise would be in front of her...?

Assuming she was right, Fiona picked up her makeshift fork and started scraping the fish off the rock. She was in the middle of the process of cleaning up after herself when a noise from behind got her attention. She whirled, and was relieved to see a little cat scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes.

Fiona was observing in shock the headwear and footwear the cat wore, when suddenly it pounced, attaching itself to her dress. Fiona yelped as it began to claw her skin. "Ouch! What do you - get off of me!"

The cat scrambled around behind her and raked its claws across her back. Fiona reached behind with both hands and grabbed him, lifting him into the air.

"Fear me, if you dare."

Fiona jerked in surprise at the sound of his voice, and her eyes narrowed back at him. "What's your problem?" she demanded.

He just glared at her, his fuzzy mouth lifted into an evil, mocking smile.

"I'll show you what I dare," Fiona muttered, and began to carry him. The cat began swinging, and suddenly latched its back claws into her dress, scrambling up her arm with a laugh. He scrambled onto her back. And froze as Fiona's body began to glow.

"Whoa!" he shouted, and scrabbled up onto her head, jumping into the branches above. Fiona closed her eyes against the blinding brilliance of the transformation, and when the light faded she opened her eyes, looking quickly up at the cat. He perched atop his branch, staring at her in open shock, eyes and mouth wide open.

When he finally found his voice, the words he spoke shocked Fiona to her core. "Y-y-you are the cursed princess?"

"What?" she demanded. "How do you know that?"

"I recognized you."

"From where?"

"From the storybooks! You are not aware?"

Fiona turned, hesitant to take her eyes off him. Suddenly it couldn't wait. "I have to go talk to my parents," she said, and began to walk in what she could only hope was the right direction.

"No, you must not go to the palace!" Puss blurted.

"Why?"

"Your parents no longer exist. The kingdom belongs to someone else."

"What?" she repeated. "You're lying."

"I am not lying," he answered. They looked up as a pair of witches flew overhead. "Oh, uh, one more thing," the cat added, watching them fly away. "You better not let the witches see you at night. They will capture you. They capture all ogres and sentence them to a life of labour. He is especially looking for you."

"Me? Why?"

"He wishes to abolish you too, and rule the kingdom forever. Princesa, going there would be walking right into a death trap."

"Wait, my parents are dead?"

"Apparently. And if you encounter him, the same will happen to you. You must lay low."

"Why do you care what happens to me?"

"You are Far Far Away's only hope for a decent ruler." He looked away in shame. "I am sorry for attacking you."

Fiona walked closer to the branch, gazing steadily at him. He tried to meet her eyes and couldn't. "I will forgive you," she announced, "But you've got to do something for me."

He looked resolutely at her. "Name it."

"Describe him to me," she answered without hesitation.

"His name is Rumpelstiltskin. He has red hair. Turquoise eyes. And, he is not much taller than me."

Fiona raised her brows.

"There is no mistaking him. Trust me," the cat added. "I do not begrudge mercy."

"So my parents are..." Fiona couldn't finish the question, and she turned and quietly walked back to her dying campfire. Sitting on the ground, she listened to her world crumble around her. Suddenly her future seemed bleak. She would never see her parents again. She would never know why.

An orange blob appeared in her peripheral vision, and she looked to her right to see the cat sit down beside her. "I am sorry, Princess."

She sighed. "That's just it. I guess I'm not a princess anymore." For a moment they were quiet; then Fiona spoke again. "I hope they didn't...suffer. How did he do it?"

"Word has it he has magical contracts, which he tricks people into signing. He says they will have whatever they want. But the signatories usually die, and he gets both pieces of the cake."

Fiona stared into the dancing flames. At that moment she was aware of neither the heat nor the cold. All she knew was emotion. "I have to kill him," she murmured, and was not aware she had spoken aloud until Puss responded to her thoughts.

"You cannot go near him and still lay low. You must be invisible to him, night and day. He does not care who he hurts."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," he answered simply. "You will never defeat him on your own."

"I have to try!"

"You will fail. I am not trying to discourage you; only to warn you," he explained, when she glared at him. "He is protected by witches and magic, and..." He shrugged. "You have nobody," he finished apologetically.

Fiona looked at him. "Did you ever bring an ogre to the palace?"

Again, he couldn't meet her eyes. He bowed his head. "Five," he muttered. "Five ogres."

She covered her eyes and leaned forward, and he quickly looked at her. "I will stop," he said hastily. "I promise you that."

She looked at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Did he pay you?" she asked.

"Uh, yes. Yes he did."

"Then why would you stop because of me?" she asked, trying to speak in a steady voice.

He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again and looked away, looking darkly into the fire. "Fine. I...It is not only you," he admitted, raising his paws. "Rumpelstiltskin made it clear that I could only get paid four times. My fifth ogre was because a witch blackmailed me."

She stared expectantly at him. "And me?" she asked, and he was quiet. "What was that for?" she demanded.

He looked apologetically up at her. "I was bored."

Her eyes narrowed at him and she fought for her voice. "Go away."

He sighed, but stood and retraced his steps to his boots. He picked them up and looked back at her. "Remember what I said," he advised. "If you must exact vengeance on Rumpelstiltskin, you cannot succeed by yourself."

"Are you seriously asking me to adopt you?" Fiona demanded.

"I am making you an offer. I can prove the remorse I feel, but you need to trust me."

"No I don't," she answered.

"I want to show you where you can find your first ogre. Your first recruit in the war against Rumpelstiltskin."

Fiona looked over at him.

-x-

Puss led her deep into the forest, where the leaves were so thick that the sunlight could barely shine through. It was dark as night, and Fiona took extra caution on the erratic trail, following the orange, hat-donning midget blob in front of her. His boots were the same color as the darkness around them, and it appeared as though he levitated through the woods.

Eventually they reached an area where the leaves above grew thinner, and a single shaft of sunlight shone down upon a tree stump. Puss circled the stump and then turned to face Fiona. She raised her brows at him.

"I witnessed him turn the interior into a bed. Look..." Puss reached toward the tree, and suddenly Fiona swatted him away.

"After sunset," she told him. "I don't want him to get the wrong idea."

"What?"

"No one can know about me. Do you understand?"

"You should tell that to the publishers of the picture books," Puss grumped. "Do it your way," he muttered, and disappeared into the darkness; leaving Fiona to stand there and wonder how her secret was leaked.

It had to be the witch. Who worked for Rumpelstiltskin. Who had abolished her parents. Who had her locked away.

Unfortunately, it was all coming together. 


	3. Chapter 3

Fiona deliberately steered clear of the forest all day, returning just before sunset. Ideally, she would find a way to fit in with both the humans and the ogres, and only the cat in the hat would know about that.

Actually, ideally she would go to the kingdom and marry a dashing prince, and nobody would ever know she had been cursed; but that didn't seem very likely anymore.

She found a quiet and secluded place with seconds to spare, and closed her eyes against the glow of the change. When the light faded, she began to retrace her earlier steps to the supposed tree stump bed' that Garfield had shown her.

The moon was still rising, so it shone directly into the forest, providing more light than the sun; and Fiona was able to quickly navigate the trail with ease. Where the leaves grew thin overhead, it was almost as though someone had turned on a light.

Fiona spotted the tree stump and stopped where she was, suddenly feeling foolish. Did she really expect an ogre to come out of the tree, like some kind of magic trick? She shook her head and started to walk away, but caught sight of the long, wide footprints in the dirt. Their size intrigued her, and she followed them right to the tree stump where, mysteriously, they stopped.

Fiona knelt slightly and examined the stump. It was large enough to fit an ogre, even one responsible for the mammoth footprints. Feeling less foolish, she felt around the bottom of the surface until her fingers grabbed a ridge and curled to touch each other, as though she had grabbed a handle.

She lifted the top of the stump like a lid, and found herself looking at a blanket and pillow. Unable to fathom that Puss had been telling the truth, she closed the tree and walked into the shadows.

The moon had risen higher, and the path was growing darker. Had it not been for the flaming torch, Fiona would not have known that she was walking directly toward someone else. She paused and quickly ducked beside a tree. As the flame grew closer, the voices grew louder. "Do you think it's enough?"

"For one night, yes. I know it is."

The torch passed by Fiona's face. She could feel the heat and hear the heavy collective footsteps of at least two people. She looked at them, watching them go, and illuminated by the firelight she recognized the ears of an ogre.

For the first time in twenty-eight long, lonely years, Fiona found herself smiling.

She followed them, careful to stay out of the moonlight that filtered in from the thinning leaves. Hovering behind a tree she watched in fascination as the ogres came into the clearing, and greeted two other ogres.

The ogre who carried the torch looked very strapping, and Fiona could easily imagine his assistance in battling Rumpelstiltskin. He sighed, looking defeated already as he said, "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think we have been doing it," said an ogre Fiona was honestly shocked to learn was a female.

"No. There's got to be more to life than this."

"But there isn't," she insisted. "Look at us, Brogan. We're alive, and we're free. That's all that matters."

Fiona's eyes narrowed. Maybe in her little world it was all that mattered, but she probably never even knew her parents.

"She's right, man. How many of us can say that?" one of the other ogres chimed in.

More than they realized, Fiona thought, and she turned and walked silently through the forest. Someday, somehow, she would introduce herself to those ogres and start preparing for war. They all would. They could never know her secret, but they could know her side.

-x-

Fiona was aching to introduce herself to them. She wanted to turn around and go back. But she would certainly not do it in her dress. No regular, actual, all-the-time ogre would ever wear such an outfit, and she wanted to blend in.

So that night, she did something for which she would later be on Wanted signs. She entered a clothing shop that, for some reason, was still open. The man behind the desk was asleep, snoring away.

Fiona couldn't pay him anyway. She hurried to the maternity aisle and grabbed some items off the shelf. Something tan, something in plaid, some leather, a big satchel to put it in. She piled her findings into her arms.

"Stop!"

Fiona spun to face the cashier, who was suddenly silent. His eyes were almost as wide open as his mouth. Ignoring his wordless sputters of protest, Fiona turned and barged through the doors into the night.

And that was how she found herself standing in front of the doors to The Poison Apple. She remembered it. Her father had gone there a lot in her childhood, and she preferred to believe he had been stressing over knowing what he and Lillian were going to do to her.

Her father had once said that all the freaks went to The Poison Apple. So she knocked, and the door creaked open just barely, showing a dark exterior. A musty smell came from inside. Making a face, she opened the door all the way and found herself looking at another pair of doors. What? Those hadn't been there before. They were painted turquoise, and the frames had been painted red. It didn't look like a bar anymore; it looked like the playpen for the freaks' children. The left door had come off its top and middle hinges, and was hanging precariously into the bar.

Fiona stepped inside and closed the doors leading to the outside, pushing the cover over the peephole and locking the door. Why did she not feel safe yet?

She opened the right door and let herself inside, staring at the interior of The Poison Apple.

It was nothing like she remembered. It looked so old and abused. A barstool was toppled, and most of the seats were torn up. Cobwebs stretched from the ceiling to the walls, and the room was only lit by the daylight filtering in through the cracked blinds. It was definitely not fit for a king or even a royal ogre. It didn't even seem like the villagers went here anymore. It might make a nice home after all.

Her first order of business was to change her clothing. Fiona went to the counter and set her satchel onto the dusty surface, then began to hunt for scissors. When she finally found them, they were located on the other side of the counter, at the back of a disgusting shelf.

Sitting in the barstool, she picked up the plaid and began to cut. 


	4. Chapter 4

Her next order of business was to tend to this place. Unfortunately, she could only fix up the interior, so that from the outside it still looked abandoned.

She walked to the Christmas-themed doors and looked at them in disgust before picking up the fallen half. Hoisting it upward, she picked at the middle hinge. It swung open, and she observed it for a moment before understanding how to fix the door. Leaning the door on the wall, she pulled the eccentric hinges open and placed the rods inside of them, then snapped the hinges shut. Then she tested the door.

Well, that wasn't hard. Why had it been left like that? She closed the door and looked around. This place needed a serious cleaning. She would still introduce herself to the ogres, perhaps tomorrow. Tonight she needed to renovate. If nobody else was using this place, she would be happy to call it home. It still had all of its walls and roof. Her alternatives were to return to the tower, or to continue sleeping on the forest floor.

Fiona got to work. As she cleaned, organized, and disposed of, she let her thoughts focus on the bizarre tree stump bed. And suddenly it came to her. They could dig deep into them and make them their perfectly hidden doors to their underground home!

Fiona found herself smiling again as she uprighted the chairs and dusted off the counter. Until her dreams were made real, it would make a fine shelf. But didn't bars usually have washrooms? Surveying her progress, she picked up her satchel and carried it with her down the hall. There were two doors, and she stopped in front of the nearest one, looking up at the weird signs on the wall. One of them read No Skin, No Bones, No Service. Another one read We Reserve The Right To Behead Anyone On The Premises.

The door creaked as she opened it and then shut with a bang. Fiona was not impressed. The room was made of stone, like a dungeon. A very small dungeon. A crude bench was pushed up to the wall, with too many pillows on it. A picture that had once decorated the wall was on the floor beside the bench, its frame broken. There was a sliding Plexiglas window, which was open halfway. Fiona looked out at the view. It was also not impressive; it was just trees and some toppled wooden barrels. Even from a distance she could see they were cracked and smashed. But the room was not in as much distress as the entrance room had been.

Fiona turned to see the door coming open. She and Puss recognized each other at the same time. Puss had to stand on a chair to reach the handle.

"What are you doing here?" Puss asked.

"I needed somewhere to change; what are you doing here?" she echoed.

"I, uh, I live here."

She raised her brows at him.

"I used to work here," he defended himself. "But when Rumpelstiltskin abolished your parents Far Far Away rioted. I lost my job and my home. But this place was still standing."

"Well..." Fiona's eyes narrowed at him. "You could keep the place a little better." She pushed the chair out of her way and walked into the bar. "I tidied up a little. If you don't mind I'll be here during the day. It won't be long."

Puss jumped off the chair and followed her. "How can I refuse? I fear I owe you a great deal."

"You do not."

Puss sighed, and Fiona halted, suddenly expecting him to confess something. She turned and put a hand on her hip, waiting.

He looked up at her. "I have to tell you something," he said. "Last year, I was bringing an ogre to the palace. I saw what they do to them. They beat them, and they whip them, hard. Now, five of those people are suffering because of me."

Fiona stared at him.

"I owe all of you," he continued. "But, I do not think they would believe a simple apology. Actions speak louder than words."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His whiskers twitched adorably as he made his decision. "I want to join you. I finally realize there is only one side."

Fiona dropped her hand and sighed. "I'm meeting the ogres tomorrow. Keep your distance. They won't be too eager to see you after what you did. You'll have to prove yourself. And I know how you can do that," she announced with finality.

"How?"

-x-

Had Puss known the answer, he might not have been so eager to follow through. Alone, he crept through the catacombs beneath the kingdom, and his voice echoed through the chambers even as he spoke quietly to himself. "This was a terrible plan."

The catacombs were very spacious, and much could be done with them. Were Rumpelstiltskin not illegally using the property, it would have been a great space for the ogres. There would even be little traffic, as there was more than one way into the tunnels. Of course the ogres would require torches or lanterns, as the pathways were intersected by long drops into darkness. For Puss, the lack of light was no problem; and his faltering footsteps were only because he had entered illegally on property that had been obtained illegally, to spy on the most cunning man with the most protection in all of Far Far Away. On the brightest day, it was much darker above than inside the tunnel; and still, Puss continued putting one boot in front of the other; a shadow amid shadows as his eyes relentlessly searched the darkness. Out of habit, one paw was always on the hilt of his sword.

Finally, Puss rested his well adjusted eyes on the rough stone stairs that led up to what Fiona had called a hallway. The other entrances had been ladders, like she had said; and so, desperate for forgiveness, Puss decided to trust her. He ascended the stairwell and came into a space that was not much wider than himself, but taller than Fiona. Here the walls were darker, and Puss wiped his paw across the stony surface and looked at his pad. It was blackened with soot. Realizing he was in a fireplace, he continued to follow the passage; until he came to look at a pile of wood that blocked a grate, and his view of the palace.

Puss stopped beside the kindling and knelt behind the pile, peering between it into the fancy dining room of the kingdom. The midget's mutant pet goose was sleeping in her bed, and the room appeared otherwise deserted. As quietly as he could, Puss began to rearrange the woodpile that restricted his view.

For the longest time, nothing was happening. The room remained quiet, and Puss found himself nodding off...

A commotion eventually jolted him awake, and he pressed his eyes to the gap between two pieces of wood to glimpse past the grate and into the kingdom. The only movement came from Fifi who was walking across the room. Feeling exhaustion and the urge to urinate tug at him, Puss let out a quiet sigh that he didn't think Fifi would hear. She stopped suddenly and cranked her head, her gaze peering warily into the fireplace.

Puss hunkered low, trying to hide until he realized the damn goose was staring at the feather on his hat. Sincerely hoping the bird did not have the ability to talk, Puss froze, unable to think of another way to react. At that moment he heard a door open, and Fifi turned her head. Moving quickly Puss snatched off his hat and dropped it beside him.

Fifi honked in greeting as the midget came walking into sight.

"That's your bird?"

"The important one, anyway," Rumpelstiltskin answered the disembodied voice. "Why don't you have a seat, and when I come back, we can discuss your contract. Come, Fifi," he added, and as he led the bird from sight, Puss saw the feline-shaped shadow appear in front of the fireplace. Then, he was shocked to see a familiar tuxedo cat he once knew. What was Rumpelstiltskin going to do to her?

With a birdlike turning of her head, Kitty darted to the cupboard beteen a candelabrum and what appeared to be a gilded globe, or perhaps a planet. Whatever it was, it was shiny; but not even her love for shiny things was enough to derail her intentions. She opened the cupbard, surveyed the interior, and grabbed something, stuffing it into her boot with one paw while closing the cupboard with the other.

Puss was smiling as he pushed past the woodpile. "Psst!" he whispered. "Kitty!"

She stopped, her familiar blue eyes searching the room. Shaking his head, Puss reached out between the bars of the grate. Instantly she was walking toward him. "Wait. I know that paw," she said, and clasped it within her own. "What are you doing in there?"

Puss treated the question as rhetorical. "Do not sign anything! He will take full advantage of you. It may be fatal!"

She shoved him away as the doorknob turned, and she turned to give a strained smile to Rumpelstiltskin as he asked, "So tell me, what are you after, Miss Softpaws?"

Kitty stammered for an answer.

"Oh, are you cold? I can fix that." As Rumpelstiltskin started practically skipping toward the fireplace, Puss had no choice. He grabbed his hat and raced back the way he came. 


	5. Chapter 5

Fiona wanted to be friends with the ogres. However, how they met would be based on lies. She had it all planned out; and now she was taking the first step to execute their introduction. She had modified her store-bought clothing to a great extent. She had cut the plaid and was wearing it like a skirt, and she had fashioned a shirt, belt, and shoes from the leather. It was so different from what she was accustomed to wearing, but she liked it. She especially liked the feel of her hair cascading loosely down her back and lifting in the wind.

She hadn't been free for very long, but she had already lost more than what she had gained upon her escape. Still, she had already processed everything and was attempting to move on with her life. So she was not as scared as she pretended as she ran through the woods, heading for the felled trees in which the ogres slept.

As she had hoped, the ogres were out at night. Feigning oblivion of their presence, Fiona looked over her shoulder as she ran. When she heard the exclamations of genuine surprise, Fiona whipped her head to look at them and allowed herself to skitter to a stop so sudden that she thrust out her hands to keep her balance. Breathing hard, though she didn't have to, Fiona walked quickly toward them, noting how they reacted. Instead of regarding her as an unwelcome stranger they helped close the distance between them, coming to her in concern.

"Whatsa matter, honey?" asked a particularly large ogre with a pierced ear.

Fiona stopped and leered at him, angling her body. Happily, the ogres stopped where they were.

"Are you okay?" asked a rather chiseled ogre. Fiona remembered he had been addressed as Brogan.

Fiona raised her brows at him. "Am I okay!" she repeated. "I just got out of the palace. What do you think?" She turned and gave an unnecessary look to the sky. "I wonder if they saw me," she murmured.

"Uh, come with us," Brogan announced. "We can help you."

Fiona pretended to be wary of their motives, following hesitantly and giving them uncertain glances. As she expected, they led her right to the felled trees. The ogre with the pierced ear opened up his tree bed and motioned inside.

"We sleep in these during the day."

Fiona stared at it, then looked into his kind brown eyes. Pushing aside the regret she felt at having had to lie, in order to keep her secret, she looked from him to the other ogres. "Is that it?" she demanded. "This is your big plan? You're just going to turn the other cheek?"

The ogres looked quietly at one another.

Fiona flicked her hand, closing the lid so loudly that the ogres flinched in response. "Not me. Not after what I saw," she announced passionately. "If you really want to help me, we need to join forces."

"And do what?" the female asked.

"The right thing," Fiona answered simply. "Those ogres need us. I needed you. And all this time, you were hiding; like children."

"We've been surviving," the female muttered.

"Yes. But not living. Do you even know your purpose anymore?" Fiona asked.

Brogan sighed, but looked at her with an expression of consideration.

"Mine is to make a difference." Fiona narrowed her eyes at him and hesitantly added, "And I guess I need to start with you."

"Us? Why?" Pierced Ear asked.

"You've been sleeping with one eye open! If you want to be a valiant warrior, you need proper sleep."

"Whoa, whoa, what? We're not fighting!" the female insisted.

"Hang on, Gretched," Brogan said, unable to look away from Fiona's determined eyes. "Let's hear her out..." 


End file.
